A new year, a new Gia

I knew it when I saw it. This was it. This was my cover photo. This was the picture that would introduce Gia to the world. The picture that would unveil my less than perfect reality.

I love this picture. It’s beautiful. But it’s so much more than that – it’s symbolic.

This photo was captured just two weeks before Gia’s diagnosis with Childhood Apraxia of Speech, during what could only be described as a disaster of a photo session.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The fall family pictures of 2014. You know the pictures – the ones you need to go perfectly so you can send out the perfect holiday card that looks like everything went perfectly. Yep, it was those pictures.

So on October 28th of 2014, we drove to the perfect setting, dressed in the perfect outfits, to meet the perfect photographer. It was going to be just perfect!

As soon as Gia stepped out of the car, it was like she stepped on to another planet – Planet Overdrive. She was so distracted by everything around her, that you couldn’t get her attention for anything. She wanted nothing to do with us, the camera, or even an ice cream truck if it drove by. The entire session became a broken record of, “Gia! Gia! Gia!”. Nothing. We had no control over her, and she seemed to have no more control over herself.

Well there goes my perfect holiday card.

I left holding back tears. Had I completely failed as a mom? Was I raising an undisciplined, out-of-control brat? Or was her behavior symptomatic of a bigger problem? But what problem?

The apraxia news came shortly after, followed by the “suspected” Sensory Processing Disorder conversation.

My world imploded, but it suddenly made sense – beginning with our family pictures. It was one of many lightbulb moments to come. You can’t ask a child with untreated sensory issues to join you in an unknown environment, with a camera in their face and everyone shouting their name. You just can’t.

It was one year ago that I wrote my first post, Apraxia? What’s that?, and What Would Gia Say? was officially born. When it had come time to choose the cover photo for my blog, I turned to my imperfect fall family photos.

In a sea of perfectly unposed “candid” shots, there it was – the perfect picture.

It was a flawless representation of Gia at the time. She was like any other three year old that was ready to talk, but she couldn’t, and she didn’t understand why. This picture shows her struggle. I see a little girl who looks vulnerable and insecure, who’s confidence is depleting. She even looks a little lost, a little scared. When I look at this picture, I can see her, she’s in there. She’s a beautiful flower that’s just waiting to bloom.

I remember standing behind our photographer as she took this picture, desperately trying to get Gia to look, smile, pay attention…anything! I pleaded with her to get that scarf out of her face and stop covering her mouth. If Gia had listened to me, this would have been a pretty picture, but not my cover photo.

Here we are today. It’s a new year, and a new Gia.

The little girl you see in that black and white photo is not who Gia is today. So that beautifully imperfect picture has been retired. It makes me sad to see it go, but so grateful for what it means to leave it behind. What that picture represents now is so much deeper, and something only I, as Gia’s mom will ever really understand. It will forever be special to me.

So for my regular readers, I’m sure you’ve noticed – a new cover photo, and a lighter and brighter blog!

On October 3rd of 2015, I gave those fall family photos another try, only this time around, the word perfect had taken on a whole new meaning. You might call it, perspective. I simply hoped for the best, and the best was whatever Gia could give me.

Once again, I left holding back tears. Did that really just happen? Was that my daughter? Has she really come this far? Made that much growth?

Gia was happy, confident and controlled. She was completely in-tune with us and the reason we were there. Her environment was secondary, and she looked comfortable in it. Not only was she excited to take pictures, but she TALKED about getting them taken. It was a dream.

I was so proud of her.

Needless to say, I had a lot of pictures to choose from. My husband and I both agreed, this was the one. The new cover photo. The new Gia.

This picture spoke to me much like the other. It fully embodies Gia and the stage of apraxia that she’s in today. I’ll let you use your own interpretation of why we might have chosen this particular photo (I’d love to hear what it is).

I’m going to end this post and start a new year with the famous words that every apraxia parent has or will at one point utter – she has come so far, but she still has so far to go.

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5 thoughts on “A new year, a new Gia”

Tears of pride for both of you as I read your latest blog Sheila… The difference just one year makes is amazing but more than anything I love the depth of your love for Gia and your own courage to seek your truth off what’s best for all of you vs. letting things just happen to you. I’m so proud of you and feel honored to share in the emotions, both up and down, in your journey… You’re an amazing Mom! Love you!

Beautiful pictures! My son has apraxia and expressive language disorder with a few sensory issues thrown in. Watch the spelling later on. We thought our son was lazy at first then a light bulb clicked on. Our son is 12 and still struggles with spelling and penmanship. Just a friendly head’s up because I would have loved one.

Thank you so much for your comment! I very much appreciate the heads up of any possibilities that could lie ahead. Gia will start Kindergarten in July, and I’m a nervous wreck over it. There is so much coming out about apraxia children being more prone to things like dyslexia, or other reading and writing difficulties. I feel so lucky to know this information early on so I can be prepared and watch for it. Thanks for taking the time to reach out, and I hope your son is doing well :).

I love reading your blog…it’s almost as if I’m reading my own thoughts. Being able to relate and see that there are people who understand what you also are going through is such a comforting feeling, even though we are strangers! My son is 3 1/2 and has Apraxia….wow, that was really hard to write. His growth in his year of private therapy has been phenomenal and I can completely relate to comparing photos from then to now. Our babes are amazing and we are the luckiest momma’s 💘 . Thank you for your posts and congatulations Miss Gia on all your hard work!! You have a beautiful smile 😍.